


Rest Breeds Rust

by dyingpoet



Category: The Outsiders - All Media Types
Genre: Brotherly Bonding, Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Drug Abuse, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Memory Loss, Post Traumatic Stress
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-13 19:22:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28658679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dyingpoet/pseuds/dyingpoet
Summary: Ponyboy was on bedrest for a week after Dally was shot and he regained consciousness. It passed slow.
Relationships: Darrel Curtis & Ponyboy Curtis & Sodapop Curtis
Comments: 23
Kudos: 34





	1. Part One

“And lay off smoking for a few days.”

Darry shut the door real soft behind him, everyone had been since he’d been home. It was strange. They always had the bedroom doors wide open so nobody had to holler to get each other's attention, that’s what their Mom used to say anyway. It never much worked and they always yelled anyway, but it was still strange having the door shut. 

Pony waited until he could hear the kitchen sink start running before he pulled out his pack of Kools from under the covers and cracked a window. He didn’t give a damn about the doctor’s orders anyway, they’d all lied, them and the fuzz, to Darry and Soda about Johnny anyhow, they’d lie about cigarettes too for all he knew. 

He lit up and shifted a little towards the window, moving to sit cross-legged. The afternoon light hurt his head a bit but the smokes were old and he had to keep from coughing or else Darry would barge in. 

His head hurt. Everyone said it was supposed to but it was still a pain not being able to stand up without getting dizzy. The smoke wasn’t helping with that and he glared weakly at his hand holding the stick when it started to shake lightly. Like his body wasn’t listening to his head or something when he told it to just _stop_. 

“Son of a bitch.” 

The cigarette ashed all over his bed covers from the shaking and he threw the rest out the window unsmoked, wiping at the white sheets to try and get it all off. There was more ash then he thought there should have been but he might’ve just zoned out after the first few pulls. He did that a lot now too, Soda said something about it the day before.

He ended up just using spit to get the ash off and covering up the spot with a pillow. On the other side of the bed in almost the same spot was a small burnt hole where Johnny had dropped a cigarette one night years ago and burned straight through the sheet. 

_Johnny…_

There was a loud slam as the window shut and Pony stared at his hands for a few seconds, ears ringing. 

“Everything alright in there?”

The sound of the kitchen sink stopped and Pony kept staring at his hands. “Yeah, s’fine Dar.”

“You sure?” Darry’s voice sounded funny in that sorry kind of way it’d been riddled with the past few days that Pony couldn’t figure out what was for. Dallas maybe. He was sure Darry couldn’t be sorry for hitting him anymore, glory he _hoped_ he wasn’t

“Yeah,” he yelled back after a few more seconds. “Just shut the window.”

There was a long silence and Pony sort of wished he didn’t throw the rest of the stick away. “Alright.”

Pony shoved his head into his pillow before Darry could say anything else. Or before Soda could come home or Steve could stand in the doorway and look at him real serious or Two-bit could come in and try and make him feel better about something he felt just as shit about too. 

Sleep was dreamless and heavy and drugged by whatever the doctor had given Darry for his head. He prayed vainly it would stay that way.

* * *

He hadn’t woken up until late that night and was thrown over Soda’s shoulder and tossed right back into bed (“ _Lightly_ Soda”) after he’d gone to take a leak and stumbled out of the bathroom looking for a glass of water.

“‘S called bed _rest_ for a reason, Pone,” Soda chided after Pony had slapped at his hands for teasingly trying to tuck him back into bed. “‘Cause yer supposed to be _resting_. See? Right there in the name.”

Pony gave him a look anyway when his brother flopped down on the bed next to him. “I was just gettin’ some water, Soda, I can walk.”

“Well you shouldn’t,” Soda said easily, and Pony didn’t put up any more of a fight because up close Soda looked tired, like Darry always did. It didn’t look good on him, and it took Soda snapping his fingers in front of his face before he realized he’d been staring and Soda had a frown that gave away his concern. “Hey, you okay?”

“‘M’fine,” Pony said and forced a grin that had Soda doing it right back. “Jus’ tired.”

The smile fell a bit at that but Soda just nodded and brushed the hair off his forehead a little. None of them were quite used to it being blonde yet and Pony had half a mind to just dye it back the normal color instead of waiting for it to grow out, he couldn’t stand looking in the mirror at it. It reminded him of Dallas in a sick sort of way

“That’s okay kid, yer supposed to be,” Soda replied softly and stood back up. “Darry was gonna leave some supper out for ya but I’ll go wrap it up and you can have it tomorrow, alright?”

“Thanks.”

Soda left then and the door shut quietly behind him. There were low voices coming up underneath the door but that was it. It was unsettling, it being quiet enough to hear the house creak and the wind blowing from outside, sort of like after the funeral, but at the same time not at all like after the funeral. Darry and Soda and everyone was still pretending for his sake. No one had pretended then, there wasn’t enough time and what would the point have been anyway?

Now Dallas was dead and Johnny…

Dallas would’ve hated everyone babying him, if he was there. Probably would’ve made fun of him too much and told him to grow up ‘cause everyone dies anyway and if you haven’t figured that out by now it was damn near hopeless. It was strange missing a person like Dallas Winston. It felt like you weren’t supposed to, like something he would’ve cussed at him for if he could. 

He’d miss him anyway, he decided, or at least remember him, remember what he said right before he died. He hadn’t told anyone about that night in the car, when they’d gotten pulled over and Dallas started talking crazy about Johnny. About Johnny who never _did_ anything. 

He blinked suddenly, thinking about Johnny. And he just stopped. There was nothing to think about with Johnny, there wasn’t. With Dally there was a lot to think about, a direction he’d given him before he’d gotten shot and Pony’d dropped to the pavement, something he still didn’t remember doing. 

Remembering any of it was getting awful hard. He kept that part of it to himself too.

* * *

By the time Randy Adderson had left their house Pony was just about ready to make a break for it and have Darry and Soda drag him back in the house.

He’d been pacing in his room ever since the soc left and spent a few minutes vainly wishing God had made him a Shepard instead of a Curtis. If Curly’d gotten sick Tim sure as hell wouldn’t’ve kept him cooped up, or wouldn’t have been _able_ to coop him up anyways with the mouth Curly had on him. But he couldn’t yell at Darry or Soda, not for a while anyway.

Whatever in God’s name Randy had come over to do, clear his conscience or do some sort of community service coming down to the east side it hadn’t worked. He was a soc, as vicious and horrible as he’d always been, and always would be, to all of them, and he hated him for it, hated all the goddamn socs and wished they’d stay on their side of town and stop coming around talking to him to make themselves feel better. 

The front door slammed and pulled Pony out of his thoughts, he had to take a second once he realized his breathing was out of it like he was running track. _Lord_ was he mad about track. 

“Where’s the kid?”

Footsteps, and then his door was being thrown open and he got a mouthful of white t-shirt when Two-bit tackled him back against his bed and sent them both bouncing. “Kid! Yer conscious! And breathin’!”

Two rolled off him right and a quiet voice cut in from the doorway. “He’s been breathin’, Two.”

“Not ‘round me,” Two bit said matter of factly, ignoring Pony’s icy glare from underneath him and shifting so he was laying on his stomach on top of Pony and looking at Steve. “Stops everytime I come around, Doc said it’s some kinda disease.”

“Girls ‘round here must have it too then,” Steve said coolly and then went quiet, looking at them. It was unnerving, and when he finally caught Pony’s eye he barely held it for a second before looking away and walking off again. Two snorted and looked back at Pony. 

“Don’t worry ‘bout him, how are ya? Ain’t barely seen you ‘cept when you were sleepin’ all that time. Momma’s had me lookin’ after Carrie last couple days, or I would’a came by more.”

“‘S okay, I ain’t been doin’ anything here anyhow.” Pony reached up to pinch Two-bit’s side and breathed deep when he finally rolled off. “What’s up?”

Two-bit talked and talked, about what was going on all over town since he'd gotten back, about how the cops were crawling over the eastside and the westside (“Lets see how they like it for a change, eh?”), and about anything that couldn’t lead to talking about Dallas or Johnny. Pony wasn’t stupid, he’d heard Darry after Randy had gone to leave and how the doctor said they shouldn’t be making him think about everything that happened. 

He didn’t care. Stubbornly, like something was hammering at him from the other side of some door inside his head that he just wouldn’t let in, he still knew they were all wrong, that Johnny didn’t kill any soc. But he knew Darry’d worry himself sick if he got to talking about any of that so he let Two-bit go on until he talked himself out, something he never really got the chance to do anyway without someone snapping at him to shut his trap or just taking a swing if he really got on their nerves. 

There was a guilty feeling in the pit of his stomach from tuning Two out while he went on though, he looked like he’d been through the ringer the past few days with the rest of them and Pony wasn’t too good at acting like he was listening when he wasn’t. After a while though, Two-bit cut out talking claiming he needed a beer, and left with a promise he’d come back after Darry told him what he was making for dinner. 

Later, it was the first meal he’d been allowed to eat back at the table since he’d been home, and they’d put the T.V. down low so it wasn’t too loud for him. Two-bit had left before the food was out, for once, and Steve mentioned something about his old man needing help at home so he’d cut out too. Honest, Pony’d almost wished he’d stayed, he had a feeling Darry and Soda were hoping to corner him into talking about something, he didn’t know exactly what, there was so much to start on, but something. 

Besides not having enough of an appetite lately he’d been picking at his chicken worrying about the damn thing. Worrying was the wrong word, he was trying to bet himself when it would be over. Soda and Darry went on about work for about fifteen minutes before they exchanged a look and Pony took the signal to start inhaling his food to let them just get at it already.

“So Pony…”

Pony though Darry sounded like he was picking his words real careful, like he was weighing them in his head too much before he spoke, and it sparked a burst of annoyance in his chest that he had to force down before it was written across his face. Everyone was just being so _careful_ , like he was crazy or about to be or-

“How’re ya feelin’?”

The innocent question took him off guard and Pony frowned at his oldest brother for a fraction of a second. There were deep, dark circles under his eyes and for the first time Pony could see that his brother looked _aged_ , like he’d lived two lifetimes in his twenty years. The defensive part of him that had flared up deflated and replaced itself with guilt so quick it felt like his head was spinning. 

If Darry or Soda noticed they didn’t say anything, and Pony shrugged and did his best to look unaffected by the question. “Alright, better.”

Darry got a twisted up look on his face and opened his mouth like he wanted to say something, but Soda beat him to the punch. “‘Course you are, tuff kid, I bet yer itchin’ to get off bed rest, huh?”

He chuckled when Pony nodded with an exasperated look, and Darry must’ve swallowed whatever he’d wanted to say because he was grinning too. “Lucky for us all it ain’t you cooped up little buddy, we’d’ve had to tie ya down after the first day.”

Soda stuck his tongue out at Darry in response, brown eyes twinkling in that way that had their Mom calling him Bambi when he was little, and Pony sat back in his chair a little and watched the two of them bicker back and forth, relaxing more now that Soda had, probably on purpose, shifted the attention off of the youngest Curtis for the time being. 

Over the last few days he’d realized that was something else new about him since Dally, he tensed up whenever too many people were all looking at him at once, like a dog cornered - like Dallas used to be - and he was finding it harder and harder to keep from snarling or slinking away whenever it happened. As far as he was concerned he’d had enough time in the limelight already, in the past year alone, to last a lifetime. 

After dinner he’d managed to clear his plate and slip away back to his bedroom without any more questions from Darry or Soda, although he knew they’d all get asked eventually. If either of his brothers had something they wanted to say to him he knew sure as hell they’d end up saying it one way or another. 

Soda had cut Pony some slack tonight and got Darry off his back, but he wasn’t much better lately when it came to fussing over their youngest brother and Pony’d bet he wouldn’t get that favor next time. 

He decided that for the moment, that night at least, he didn’t give a damn, and even though the clock only read a quarter past eight by the time he got washed up there was a tired ache spreading from his head all the way down to his feet that got him climbing into bed anyway. Soda must’ve heard the mattress squeaking, it was the oldest one in the house and something Pony had complained about since he was old enough to sleep in a bed, because he creaked the door open slowly and crept in a moment later, squinting at the drastic change in light from the hallway. 

“Pony? You goin’ to sleep already, honey?” 

The mattress dipped near the foot of the bed and Pony shifted to sit up, nodding slightly. “Yeah, ‘m beat.”

“Yer head hurtin’?”

“Nah.” Normally he could get away with lying about something like that no sweat, even if it was Soda, but he was tired and Soda hadn’t shut the door when he came in so the too-bright light from the hallway was just making the ache in his head worse. 

“Yer lyin’.” Soda said so easily it startled Pony a bit, and he watched wide eyed as his brother got up and left the room, returning a minute later with a glass of water and two of the pills he’d gotten from the doctor. He wasn’t sure exactly what they were, Darry just told him they were painkillers but not what kind. “Take these.”

“Oughta be a nurse,” Pony quipped weakly, but he took the pills and the water without arguing. He had never liked taking pills, they used to have to put them in peanut butter when he was a kid so he’d be able to get them down, but he was _tired_. Soda looked tired. He just wanted to go to sleep. 

He swallowed them both with a sip of water and leaned over to put the cup over on the nightstand. Soda was still standing in the middle of the room, fidgeting with his hands and looking so out of place in a way that Sodapop Curtis never had in his whole life. It took a second before Pony realized.

“You wanna sleep in here, Soda?”

Soda’s shoulders sagged visibly and he gave Pony a tired half-smile. “As long as yer offerin’, sure.”

Pony scooted over to the other side of the bed in favor of a response and Soda collapsed next to him, the bed dipping enough that Pony ended up getting rolled over towards the middle and Soda slung an arm over his neck before he could move back. Neither of them said anything for a minute and Pony let his eyes close and breathed in deep.

Cigarettes, laundry detergent, and a dusty smell that was more comforting than it should have been. It smelled like _home_ , and it felt like it too, with Soda and his bed and his house. His quiet house, far too quiet and emptier than it had ever been. 

He didn’t cry at all that night, thinking mostly of Dallas because there was no one else _to_ think of, a statement he’d been clinging to like a lifeline since he’d been home. Everything since Bob Sheldon died right up until Dallas went down under that streetlight felt more like a bad dream everyday, like the memory of everything was covered in snow. Getting at it, thinking about it at all, numbed him starting from his fingers and the more he kept digging at it the more the feeling spread. He came up empty handed every time he tried to remember and he didn’t care enough to keep going, not now. 

He didn’t cry, but Soda did, about half an hour later. The pills Soda had given him had already started knocking Pony out pretty good by the time he put together that Soda was crying at all. He had his back to his brother, but he feel the grip around him trembling slightly as Soda tried his best to keep from making any noise. 

Guilt was rotting in the pit of his stomach and he wanted to turn over and say something, anything really, to his brother who’d spent almost every night the last few months calming him down when he woke him up screaming bloody murder in the middle of the night from a nightmare. 

There was nothing though, trying to think of anything to say felt like clawing at empty air and he was just _so tired_.

“‘S’okay, Soda,” was all he softly managed after giving up on trying for something better. For a second he thought he’d been too quiet and Soda hadn’t even heard him, but then he felt Soda take a deep, shuddering breath and he stopped with the shaking. 

He was being pulled closer to his brother’s chest then, and in his drowsy half-drugged state felt Soda take another deep breath and plant a kiss on the top of his head before letting his grip slack. 

“Yer a good kid, Pony.”

Pony fell asleep thinking being a good kid hadn’t really gotten him much.


	2. Part Two

Soda was gone when Ponyboy woke up the next morning. The shower was running but besides that it was quiet. The clock on the nightstand read eleven and he blinked sleepily at it for a few seconds, confused; usually he never slept in past ten before Darry and Soda woke him up. Little things like that were starting to grate on his nerves, being treated different after everything. He didn’t want it. 

The shower cut off and Pony sighed hard before getting up. If it was eleven that meant Soda was already at work so Darry must’ve taken the day off, nobody else really used their shower, especially in the mornings. There was a prickling sensation in his brain because that had never been quite true in the past but he shook his head and left for the kitchen before he could start thinking about it too much. 

“Pony?”

He was halfway through a glass of water when Darry came out of the bathroom, in a towel looking concerned before he saw Pony looking at him over his glass with raised eyebrow. “Didn’t think you were up yet, Soda ‘nd Steve went to work, Two said somethin’ about watchin’ his kid sister yesterday so I doubt he’ll be around.”

“You workin’?” Pony asked, studying his brother’s face when he did. Darry didn’t like when he talked to him about work or money, even though Soda did all the time, but at this point if Darry took off he figured he could afford to, there wasn’t a chance in hell he’d be here if they couldn’t. 

Darry shook his head. “Nah, but I gotta go out and get some stuff done”

He spoke carefully at the end and Pony frowned, confused as to why and then it hit him: Dallas. Lord he hadn’t even thought about what was going to happen with him. Of course Darry was taking care of it, there wasn’t a soul in Tulsa except the Shepard’s that cared about Dallas that much, and they weren’t sentimental enough to do much, let alone plan a funeral or whatever Darry was doing.

When he hadn’t said more Darry headed up the stairs for his room and Pony dumped the rest of his water down the sink. There was leftover bacon on the stove and eggs in the icebox if he wanted them, but he wasn’t hungry. That’d been the case lately, just thinking about eating anything took away his appetite. He was careful to eat enough of his meals in front of Darry and Soda so they wouldn’t worry, but that was about it. Nothing tasted good, and eating made him tired, most everything did actually. 

Darry was going to make sure he ate though, so he ended up taking a few pieces of bacon and crumbling them up in the trash. It would’ve been a nice time to have a dog, he hated wasting food, but it was either that or have Darry all over him when he picked at his food or didn’t eat enough. After everything with the fire and the hospital he was sort of tired of fighting with his oldest brother. He was sure that wouldn’t last long but for right now he was happier with the quiet. 

It was half an hour before Darry reappeared, walking up behind the couch Pony was on, dressed with his hair greased. Pony had to tilt his head back and Darry smirked when he did and reached to ruffle his hair. “Don’t watch too much T.V. when I’m out, alright? Doc said it ain’t good for yer head.”

Pony hummed in response and was about to settle back into his show,  _ Lost in Space _ , they’d just started it this year and he liked it a lot, when there was a screech of tires outside and both Curtis’ looked at the door. 

Well, Pony was looking between Darry and the door. They weren’t expecting anyone but with everything that happened they were all on edge the state was going to send someone over unannounced and Darry had tensed, waiting. 

If he could’ve made a list of all the people he expected to walk through that door, Tim Shepard would’ve been dead last or left off, but he walked in without knocking anyway and Pony kept the surprise off his face. As far as he knew from Curly, Dallas had been in pretty good with the Shepard family. Him in Tim had been beating each other’s heads in or knocking up drug stores together since Dallas rolled in from New York. 

Grief didn’t show on the faces of people like Tim Shepard though, and he looked over at Darry and Ponyboy evenly before saying anything. “Hey, didn’t mean to bust in on ya Curtis, reckoned you’d be workin’.”

“Took the day off,” Darry replied, curt, but Pony understood. If Tim figured Darry was at work that meant he’d had come over to see Pony, something that baffled the youngest Curtis but put Darry on edge. He respected the Shepard’s but knew better than any of them that they brought trouble, and he’d never been quiet about how he didn’t like Pony hanging around any of them.

Tim nodded, and if he took Darry’s tone for what it was he didn’t show it or didn’t care. Instead he turned to Pony and dug around in his jacket pocket, pulling out a folded up piece of notebook paper and holding it out for him. 

Confused, Pony took it and frowned before he looked up at Tim, who shrugged. “Went to visit Curly the other day, in the reformatory y’know, ‘nd I guess news already got ‘round ‘bout Dallas ‘cause he said to give this to ya, dunno what else it’d be about.”

“You read it?” Pony asked carefully. He never wanted to come off confrontational with Tim because the older greaser never took well to it, and he was relieved when he shook his head. 

“Nah, just said it was fer you.”

Pony thanked him and Tim nodded again, but he was mostly focused on Darry now, and wordlessly the two of them walked for the door. He could hear muffled voices from the porch but couldn’t make out what the two of them were saying. The note was staring at him as much as he was at it, and there was a part of him that didn’t want to read it. Word had gotten around about Dallas, and he wasn’t real surprised it reached the reformatory, Dally was well known around there, but he had no idea what Curly had to say to  _ him  _ about all of it. 

An engine started up outside and Darry walked back in. He looked at the still unopened note in Pony’s hands for a split second before bringing his eyes up. “I gotta split, you gonna be okay by yerself?”

A part of him longed to ask about what Tim had to say to his brother but Darry wouldn’t have told him anyway. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Alright.” Darry looked unsure, between Pony and the door, but after a moment he shrugged on his jacket and grabbed the car keys off the table. “Soda ‘n Steve’ll be home before five, but I should be back ‘fore then. If ya need anything call Soda down at the DX, he’ll pick up.”

Pony nodded and Darry mirrored it back. “Alright, bye.”

“Bye.”

The door clicked shut and Pony inhaled deep before looking back down at the note. He needed a cigarette. 

He was settled in his bed next to the cracked open window on his second stick before he opened the note. The paper trembled a little from his hands but he took another drag and a breath that calmed them. 

In Curly’s chicken scratch scrawl the note read:

_ Dear Ponyboy, _

_ I heard about Dallas the other day from some of the older guys in here the other day, Johnny Cade too. Real sorry about it all, I know you and Johnny were friends, and Dallas. I’ll miss Dallas, and don’t tell anyone but Tim will too. I always knew it would be a fucking pig that got him too, man I wanna get out of here so bad.  _

_ Anyway, it’s been boring without anybody in here, and I know Dally and Johnny were in your gang, it’s shit, especially with Johnny wasting that soc. Cade was a nice guy, but I heard about y’all saving all them kids, it was a real good thing, you know? _

_ I’ll shoot you a line once I get out, even if Superman gets frosted whenever I do.  _

_ See you soon, _

_ Curly Shepard _

He read it over three times before he put the paper down and by then he nearly felt sick. Dallas was like a brother to Curly, he knew that much, but he didn’t know Johnny barely at all. He was the one who’d known, who  _ knew _ Johnny best, and he knew he didn’t kill the soc. He knew, he knew, he knew. 

After a few minutes of staring down at the note, not rereading, just staring, he tore it up. Just touching it anymore made him feel like he’d been burned. It was a lie, and he couldn’t figure out why everyone was still so insistent on lying, even Curly. The cops he could understand, everyone in the gang had lied to to fuzz at one point or the other without getting caught, and they probably gave them out just as much. 

It was easy to blame someone like Johnny Cade was all, there wasn’t another good reason for it. Thinking about that just made him feel sicker, even after he died nobody gave a damn about Johnny except him. Not even his parents. 

A few days earlier when Darry and Soda thought he was asleep he heard them saying Johnny’s parents already had all his stuff in trash bags on the curb. Soda was cursing a blue streak going on about it and Darry was so quiet during the whole thing Pony knew he was real mad. 

Fists balled up tight, he was pacing a hole in the carpet around the living room. He couldn’t think about Johnny anymore, not today. Maybe the doctor had been right with what he told Darry, about not reminding him of any of it. Curly wrote a note and mentioned Johnny’s name three times and now he was pretty sure he qualified as clinical. 

Gosh if he could just leave the house. Part of him wanted to just do it and leave, it wouldn’t even be hard at all with nobody at home, but honestly he felt sort of scared leaving the house. All the old places he used to kill time at felt like Johnny and Dallas’ death had dirtied them. He couldn’t just  _ go  _ to them anymore, they were like a gravesite.

Sleep. That was the only good option, it was what he was supposed to be doing anyway. 

For some reason he still had that old childhood fear of the medicine cabinet, even at nearly fifteen he could still hear his mother’s voice telling him to stay out of the medicine cabinet, that he could drink something in there and hurt himself on accident. She’d told him that before he was even old enough to start school, but it still stuck. 

The bottle was right out there in the front, with his name in big letters across the label. Oxymorphone. The name was familiar but he couldn’t quite place from where. 

Two, the same amount Soda gave him the night before and he washed it down with water from the sink. _ Lost in Space _ was still on the T.V. when he came back into the living room, and he laid down on the couch and shut his eyes, listening. 

He knew he shouldn’t be taking his pills whenever he got all freaked out thinking about Johnny. He’d been in school on those days when they had the cop or the health teacher drone on and on about why they shouldn’t take pills, the difference between hearing it then and knowing it now was just that he didn’t care. All he wanted to do was sleep and if the pills helped him with that then why not take them? 

Arguing it in his head was pointless when he’d already taken them, he decided. Deep down he knew better, but much closer to the surface was still still just that feeling of not caring. Not in that defiant sort of “screw everybody else” sort of way, just nothing. There was a part of him that would usually care about these things that just didn’t exist, or maybe was hidden somewhere he couldn’t find.

For now he was fine with just sleeping. And that’s what he did, dreamlessly, for hours. Enough hours that by the time he was just starting to wake up, still in that strange sort of half awake half asleep state, everybody had already gotten home.

With his eyes closed he laid still for a minute, listening. 

“You gonna put that on the grill, Dar?”

A cabinet shut. “Yeah I oughta, gonna be too cold for it soon.”

The back door slammed loud as it closed and Steve’s voice piped up from somewhere behind Pony. “You gonna wake the kid up to eat?”

“I should, shouldn’t I?” Soda asked and Pony could hear his footsteps padding up closer to him. “Darry said he was sleepin’ when he got back, ‘bout an hour before us.”

“Won’t sleep tonight if you don’t,” Steve remarked, genuine, and Pony almost opened his eyes just from the surprise. Steve had barely said ten words to him since he’d been back, and he’d just assumed he blamed him for everything that happened. It was something he thought Steve would do. 

“Yeah.” Soda sighed and then he was shaking lightly at Pony’s shoulder. After a few seconds he blinked his eyes open and tried to look like he hadn’t been faking. Soda was grinning down at him like he bought it, snapping his fingers in front of his face a few times.

“Evenin’, kiddo.”

Pony groaned and aimed to slap at his brother’s hand but he caught it instead and pulled him up. He swayed on his feet a little once he was standing, it felt like someone stuffed cotton in his head and left it sitting there. Soda steadied a hand on his shoulder and frowned at him, concerned. “You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah ‘m fine.” Pony yawned and rubbed at his eyes a little. “Jus’ tired, when’d y’all get back?”

“Little over an hour ago,” Soda said. He was still looking at Pony funny and reached to feel his forehead. “You sure yer alright? Ain’t never seen you out like that in the middle of the day.”

Steve hummed in agreement but when Pony looked over at him he was still staring at the T.V. He left it alone for now, Steve was strange sometimes. 

“I feel fine, honest Soda, just fell asleep watchin’ T.V.” Pony assured. It felt awful lying to Soda, but there was no way in hell he was telling him the truth, so he swallowed the guilt back. “Hey, is Dar makin’ dinner?”

That seemed to stop Soda’s worrying and he nodded enthusiastically. Everyone had noticed Pony hadn’t been eating much since he’d been home and he could see the relief written across Soda’s face when he asked. “Yeah, he’s grillin’ burgers in the back, I’m makin’ mashed potatoes ‘nd asparagus.”

Pony pulled a face at the last bit and Soda waved a finger in his face teasingly and chided, “They’re good for ya, and I’m puttin’ all kinds of stuff on ‘em so you won’t taste ‘em much anyway.”

That could either mean they’d taste great or they’d taste like he’d dumped the whole seasoning rack on it blind, but he didn’t complain anymore and let Soda go back to the kitchen, a racket starting up quick. 

Steve was still on the recliner watching T.V., and Pony sat down on the far end of the couch. He’d switched the channel so it was on  _ The Munsters _ now. It was alright, and they sat in silence for a few minutes.

“Darry said Tim Shepard stopped by.”

The channel went to commercials and Pony looked over at Steve. The older greaser was looking at him carefully, he had a funny habit of saying stuff in a way that made you think he knew more than he was letting on. Stubbornly, he held his eye and shrugged. “Yeah.”

“Fer what?”

He almost snapped that it was none of Steve’s damn business, but with him acting off he didn’t want to push it. “Gave me a note from Curly, from the reformatory.”

“Curly?” Steve said his name like he’d never heard it before and frowned. “Why’d he write somethin’ fer you?”

Honestly, he wasn’t used to having these kind of conversations with Steve, ones that didn’t involve Soda as a buffer and Steve generally annoyed with him the whole time. It was throwing him off. 

“I dunno, just said he heard ‘bout Dallas and everythin’, said he was sorry ‘bout everything and he’d shoot me a line when he got out.”

He didn’t know why he was telling Steve so much about the note, especially considering the effect it had on him earlier, but he regretted it in an instant when Steve leaned back in his chair and asked, “He say anything ‘bout Johnny?”

Pony froze, half-aware that Steve was definitely looking at him hard, the other half completely taken aback the other greaser had asked him about Johnny at all. He oughta have heard from Darry, why would he-

He was saved from answering when Darry came back inside, the door slamming again and he hollered over it, “Dinner’s ready!”

Before Steve could say another word he stood up and walked stiffly into the kitchen, Steve behind him a second later. If either of his brothers noticed the tension they didn’t say anything. Soda had already put the mash potatoes out on the table, dyed pink, he figured he was going for red but he never put in enough color whenever he tried. 

He was distracted enough thinking about Steve that he let Soda make his plate, immediately frowning at the weight of it when he handed it back. “Christ Soda, I can’t eat all this.”

“Well you can try,” Soda answered, sitting down with his own plate and nodding at his brother. “You look too damn skinny, don’t he Dar?”

Darry nodded and pointed his fork full of potatoes at Pony, they weren’t a saying grace first type of family. “Yeah, and you better finish the burger and half the other stuff at least. You gotta start putting back all that weight you lost or else you ain’t gonna be good for track next year.”

Soda gave Darry a side eye at that and Pony shut his mouth and started in on his food quietly. He was still bitter about missing track this season and Darry knew it, he didn’t have to go and bring it up like that. 

Always one to break the tension, Soda launched into a story about some nice car he and Steve fixed up at the DX that day, the other greaser chiming in only to correct Soda when he started exaggerating about it too much, a bad habit of his. Pony nodded at all the right times and managed to get down the whole burger and most of the potatoes and asparagus before he gave up, already uncomfortably full since he still was getting used to eating so much, but at least he wasn’t sick. 

Just to get away from the table he offered to do the dishes, Darry helping clear the table and drying as Soda and Steve pulled out a deck of cards and started up on war. Steve was just accusing Soda of slipping an ace out of his sleeve when Pony finished up. Even after sleeping all that time he felt dead on his feet, and the lights on in the kitchen were getting at his head. 

He was sort of scared to ask if he could take one of his pills for it, no one knew he’d taken any earlier, and he really did have a headache his time, but still. “Hey Dar?”

Darry turned to look at him quick. “Yeah?”

“My head’s hurtin’ pretty bad, you mind if go lay down?”

His brother nodded, and just as he’d hoped followed it up with, “Yeah, you can take one of those pills the doctor gave you in the medicine cabinet too, I’ll check up on you in a while.”

“Thanks.”

Soda and Steve were still arguing so he managed to slip into the bathroom without either of them noticing. He opened up the medicine cabinet and stared at the pills for a minute, he just felt  _ bad  _ lying. It wasn’t really lying, nobody knew he had anything to lie about, but he felt just as guilty as if they did. 

Honestly though, he was still a little rattled about what Steve had said to him and his headache was getting worse. He took two of them and prayed Darry wouldn’t check him or be able to tell the difference if he did. Hopefully they’d knock him out just as good even though he took them earlier. 

He made sure to shut the door behind him in his room and flicked the light off. It was barely after eight but dark enough outside that it felt later. Reading or drawing and all that stuff he usually did before bed to tire himself out would just make his head hurt, and he ended up staring up at the ceiling on his back, waiting for the pills to kick in. 

His mind started to drift off while he did, and lord he’d done so much thinking about all the bad stuff lately he started thinking about the country again. Like he’d done the night everything went bad. It didn’t bother him like he thought it would, and after a while thinking about it he let his eyes close until the thoughts turned more dreamlike and he felt himself starting to drift off. 

Barely, from the small part of him that hadn’t drifted off yet, he heard the door creak open. It would be awful nice to just run away to the country, he could work on a farm somewhere he was sure, somewhere pretty…

“He’s sleepin’ again?”

“Guess so, you think that’s alright? He slept real long already today, and late this morning.”

“I dunno, Soda, kid’s been actin’ strange. I’d keep an eye on him if I was you.”

The voices sounded far off and they didn’t bother him. He could imagine Soda out on a farm, somewhere with horses, Darry too the more he thought about it. 

Someone was still speaking but he couldn’t tell if it was the Soda in his head, in the country, or the Soda in his doorway. Didn’t matter, both of them faded out a moment later. He felt heavy.

* * *

The next two days passed in a sort of blur. Both Soda and Darry were working full days, and Steve wasn’t around much either between school and working in the evenings. He couldn’t even  _ think  _ about going back to school yet, it sounded like a death sentence. It sort of helped him understand why it took Two-bit so damn long to get through it though. 

Over those two days he also learned Darry definitely wasn’t checking the pill bottle in the medicine cabinet. He’d taken to letting Pony get them for himself at night, the fact that he trusted him with it was the source of a constant, stabbing pain of guilt in the back of his head. The doctor had given him thirty pills, enough for two weeks, and there was a note for one refill on the bottom of the label in small print, for after this one ran out. 

With everybody out of the house he’d started taking three or four a day. One or two around noon, and two at night when Darry told him to take one. The very much logical part of him was screaming at him, telling him there was no way he was going to keep this up much longer, somebody was going to notice how empty the bottle was soon enough and then he was really going to be screwed. 

The funny thing was, he knew he was going to get in trouble eventually, and he knew it was going to be bad, probably really bad, but he couldn’t bring himself to  _ care _ . Over and over it came down to that. 

Everyday he had to wake up to an empty house and everyday he had to remember that was because two of his friends were dead, killed young and unfairly because he couldn’t have just taken it like a man when Darry hit him and not run away. That guilt was bigger than anything he felt about stealing the pills, and he wanted it to go away, even if just for a few hours,  _ so badly _ that nothing else mattered much.

He was pretty good at hiding how tired he felt when everybody else was around. Steve was still giving him funny looks but at least he hadn’t asked about Johnny anymore. 

Johnny, now that was a whole other thought he just wanted to go. Not even him dying, although he still couldn’t think about that night in the hospital without shaking like a leaf or just zoning out without meaning to. He knew, knew for sure that Johnny didn’t kill any soc. That’s what he kept telling himself over and over: Johnny didn’t do it, he did, and it wasn’t strange he didn’t feel much about it and couldn’t remember it much. There wasn’t much from the last few weeks he could remember clearly anyway. Johnny didn’t kill the soc, he did. He  _ did _ . 

That’s what he told himself anyway, and when it felt wrong, like a lie to even think it, he told himself it oughta feel wrong. Something like that should feel bad. 

Again, he was trying not to think about it too much, even though the more days past the more he felt like he was missing something. He’d managed to convince himself that he didn’t care if he was, it didn’t matter. Everyone that was dead was dead. No room to think about anything else.

The night before his last day of bedrest, a Thursday, at least he’d get the weekend before he had to go back to school, he was struggling to keep his eyes open as Soda chatted up a storm next to him. 

Even though he wasn’t having nightmares anymore Soda was still sleeping in his room. After the one night he’d bawled next to Pony he didn’t feel like it was right to ask him to leave. He didn’t mind his brother there most nights, but he sure could talk a lot. 

“And don’t tell nobody I said anythin’, but I think Steve’s gonna break it off with Evie soon.”

“Really?” Pony asked, honestly intrigued. He didn’t know much about Evie, but she was pretty, dark brown hair with soft waves in it even though most girls wore it straight now, and she was real sweet too. As far as he was concerned, Steve was doing pretty damn well for himself. “Why?”

Soda shrugged. “I dunno, guess it’s just one’a those things, y’know? I don’t think he ever thought they was gonna get married or anything like that.”

Pony nodded and Soda was about to go right back into his story when the door opened. He had to squint against the light at Darry, but his brother had an odd look on his face. Dark. He couldn’t place if he was angry or upset. 

He didn’t get a chance to ask before Darry turned his gaze to Soda. “Hey, can I talk to ya for a second, Soda?”

Pony looked at Soda who just gave him a puzzled look and shrugged, getting up. “Sure, everything alright?”

“Yeah, ‘s fine.”

He didn’t sound convincing, and he shut the door after Soda walked out with one more look at Pony. There was a small bit of worry crawling up his chest, a thought gnawing at his head that maybe he oughta be worried about whatever they were talking about, but with Soda gone and the room quiet the feeling of the painkillers, soft but heavy, like he was being dragged forcibly from wakefulness, was starting to kick in. 

That feeling when it actually knocked him out was quickly becoming his favorite part of the day, like he wasn’t in complete control of his body anymore and then just  _ sleep _ . 

Someone gasped from outside the door. He didn’t pay it any mind. God, he loved sleep.

* * *

The next day it wasn’t like he woke up and immediately knew something was wrong, like they said in movies all the time. He just woke up, exhausted as he stretched his arms out in front of him and yawned. 

He  _ did  _ know something was wrong when he walked down the stairs into the kitchen and Darry and Soda were sitting at the kitchen table. As far as he knew they were both supposed to be working.

Soda looked up when he got down the stairs, he looked dead tired, like he’d never come back to bed after Darry asked to talk to him the night before. After Darry-

_ Shit _ .

It felt just like it did when his parents caught him doing something he wasn’t supposed to be doing when he was little. That sick, panicked feeling settling in the pit of his stomach and thinking his heart was about to beat out of his chest.

“Siddown, Pony.” 

Darry said it calmly in that sort of way someone talked before they got to screaming. He did as he was told and licked his lips anxiously, looking between both of his brothers. Maybe he could get out in front of it, take some of the edge off.

“I threw out the rest of those pills.”

Well that plan was out the window. Darry was looking at him like he was waiting for him to say something, Soda too, but in a more pleading way, and Pony cleared his throat. The old rule Two-bit used to tell him, about “deny, deny, deny” and all that didn’t seem like it was going to work here. 

“I’m sorry,” he blurted out and regretted it a second later. He wished they’d given him a second to wake up before all this. “I mean-”

“Why?” Darry asked, and Soda’s silence was really starting to get to Pony now. It felt too rehearsed, like they’d planned it out and the idea of that got that guilty feeling crawling back up his throat. 

He looked at Darry for another second, face still a mask, and cleared his throat. “For takin’ extra of those pills-”

“I  _ know  _ you took more than you should’ve,” Darry nearly snapped, but his voice softened a little when Pony visibly flinched. “I asked why yer  _ sorry _ .”

Pony frowned, blanking, and looked desperately at Soda, wishing he’d jump in or just say anything. “‘Cause I, ‘cause I, uh- look I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t’ve done it I just didn’t wanna-”

“Didn’t wanna what?” Soda asked, finally, and Pony almost preferred he stayed quiet. He sounded hurt, he  _ looked  _ hurt. “Ya know they make heroin outta the same stuff as that, right?”

Pony blinked, he hadn’t. “No, I didn’t.”

Darry drummed his fingers against the table and Pony could tell he was getting impatient with this whole thing. “You didn’t? So you didn’t know you could get hooked on that stuff too? You can overdose too, real easy, but I bet you didn’t know that either.”

His brother’s voice was raised by the end of the sentence and Pony shrunk back. The sort of apathetic wall he’d been hiding behind the last few days was crumbling and all that stuff he should’ve been caring about was right there in front of him. “I’m sorry.”

He sounded  _ pitiful  _ and he  _ hated  _ himself for it but he really didn’t know what else to say. That guilty feeling was just everywhere now; not just from lying to his brothers and taking pills, about everything. Dallas and Johnny and Bob, everything that happened in the past few weeks. The urge to just cut it off and sleep came back with a vengeance and knowing he couldn’t now made it worse. 

It was the first time he cried at all since he got home and it didn’t feel good. Having Darry and Soda staring at him wasn’t making it any better, and he just settled for burying his face in his hands to keep from seeing their faces. Soda, of course, was next to him in a second, he didn’t have to look up to know it was him, trying to hush him and sounding more scared then he did angry. 

“It’s alright, it’s over now, there’s no more of it, it’s alright.”

Honestly he felt like shit for crying, like Darry was thinking he was trying to get out of trouble with it or something, but he couldn’t help it. That awful feeling of just feeling  _ bad _ , when you know you did something really, really, wrong was hitting him all at once and he couldn’t ignore it.

After a minute or so he managed to get enough control over himself to cut out the crying, still hiccupping every couple seconds, and he didn’t even notice Darry had moved over to his other side until he looked up again. 

He hiccupped and ran a hand through his hair, it was shaking bad but he hoped they wouldn’t notice. “I’m real sorry Darry, you gotta believe me, please-”

Darry put a hand on his shoulder and moved his head a bit to look him in the eye. The mask from earlier was gone and was replaced with something like relief. “I know you are, baby. We should’a been talkin’ to you more about everything that happened, it wasn’t right for you to deal with it all by yerself.”

Pony shook his head and sniffed again. “No, the doctor told y’all-”

“I know what the doctor said,” Darry said firmly, “but we still should’ve talked about it some. Now quiet about that, it ain’t yer fault.”

He nodded slowly and let Darry continue. Soda was on his other side dead quiet still. “But yer still in trouble for takin’ all those pills, you know better than that and you could’a hurt yerself real bad. So yer grounded for a month ‘cept school once you go back, sound fair?”

Pony nodded quick and Darry squeezed his shoulder one more time before dropping it. Honestly, grounded for a month sounded awful but he couldn’t exactly say he hadn’t earned it. Hell, Darry could’ve said he was gonna cut off one of his fingers as punishment and he probably wouldn’t have put up a fight, he felt so bad anyway. A part of him was surprised Darry hadn’t started screaming his head off at him, and he thought back to the night when he came back late from the lot, before everything happened and Darry hit him. He guessed after how sorry Darry seemed in the hospital he shouldn’t be that surprised. 

“Okay, I called in late but I still gotta go to work, call if y’all need anything.”

He hadn’t even noticed Darry was already dressed for work, but he said goodbye softly as he grabbed the car keys and left him alone with Soda. 

When he turned back to Soda he started a little when he saw his eyes getting glassy. Guilt. Rotting. “Aw Soda, I’m so sorry.”

The words were barely out of his mouth when Soda grabbed him around the shoulders and pulled him into a tight hug, not crying, but breathing hard like he was holding it back. “Shit, kiddo, you scared me something awful with that.”

“I know.”

“I mean, last night Darry said you took a whole bunch more than ya should and he was readin’ all this shit about how easy it is for people to get addicted, or  _ die  _ and I just- why didn’t you  _ tell  _ me?”

He pulled back but kept both hands on Pony’s shoulders, eyes moving around fast searching his. 

Pony sniffed again and paused, thinking hard. He knew why but putting it into words was hard. “I dunno, I just didn’t wanna keep thinkin’ about Johnny an’ Dallas and everything. I mean shoot Soda, the whole damn thing was my fault and everyday I just woke up thinkin’ about it and I dunno, sleepin’ seemed easier.”

Soda let him get the whole thing out of his mouth, to his credit, before punching him in the shoulder. “Ow! What was that for?”

“It  _ ain’t yer fault _ , what happened with Johnny and Dallas, you hear me?” he said, looking serious as he’d ever been. “Sometimes bad things happen and their ain’t a reason- shit we all know that better than most people.”

They both went quiet for a second, even talking about their parents without even talking about them still hurt, and Soda inhaled deep before he kept going. “And it hurts thinkin’ about for all of us, but you don’t gotta go takin’ somethin to forget about it every time, yknow?”

“Yeah.” Pony nodded and looked up when Soda tapped at the bottom of his chin. 

“Please kid just  _ talk  _ to me next time you wanna do somethin’, anything like that, okay?”

He nodded and Soda mirrored it back, wiping at his eyes before he stood up. “Alright, enough of that, I got the whole day off now, sorta panicked and called in this morning, you hungry?”

“Starvin’,” he answered honestly. The last couple of days he’d been sleeping so much on those pills he barely ate anymore. Even with less of an appetite it was starting to catch up with him. Clearly it was what Soda wanted to hear, and he dragged Pony off to the kitchen and started cracking some eggs for them both. 

Truthfully, he probably would’ve kept on taking the pills if Soda and Darry hadn’t found out, and he sort of wanted one now even still. But somehow Soda had managed to crack an egg onto the floor and drop all the shell into the pan that got him cracking up at himself and Pony followed suit, feeling lighter and better than he had in days. He might want it, but he didn’t need it anymore. It might feel like shit for a while but he’d be okay eventually. They all would be. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this ended up A Lot Longer than i thought it would be but i hope it turned out okay!! i had a lot of fun writing it and i hope yall had fun reading it <33
> 
> leave a kudos or a comment if u enjoyed and if u have any fic prompts or anything u can hmu on tumblr @staticky ❤❤

**Author's Note:**

> hope u guys like this so far!! i was originally gonna post it all at once but i was impatient about getting this part out so i split it <3
> 
> also this is set once pony gets home from the hospital after dallas and johnny died and before the trial, so im just using the canon material w him having memory loss/dissociative amnesia about johnny's role in bob's murder and some general events after (might mess up a canon detail or two there's just a lot of them lmao)
> 
> and kudos/comments are always appreciated !! i love seeing them !! and if u have any prompts or just wanna chat about the fic or the characters u can hmu on tumblr @staticky !!


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